


First Flight

by Elendiliel



Series: Lightning Strikes [29]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Found Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:16:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29863506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elendiliel/pseuds/Elendiliel
Summary: Jedi General Helli Abbasa's newly formed strike team, Lightning Squadron, are making a name for themselves in more senses than one. But their next mission, joint with one of Helli's oldest friends, his unit and an unexpected ally, will take them out of their element completely.
Series: Lightning Strikes [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087898





	First Flight

“Oh, confusticate and bebother this confounded contraption!” That was an impressive string of not-quite-profanities even by Helli Abbasa’s standards. The young Jedi Knight was in the unfortunate position of disliking bad language but having plenty to curse about. In this case, the object of her wrath was the DC-17 blaster pistol she was failing to learn how to use. For a given value of “failing”.

“Maybe you should take a break.” Fives, one of her team, the newly named Lightning Squadron, was quite possibly regretting agreeing to teach his CO to use a blaster. At the time, it had just been a way to stay occupied between missions, although Helli had a feeling it was going to develop into more than that one day. “You’ve been at this for three hours straight. Look, you only missed one shot on that last run. Considering that you weren’t bred for this, that’s impressive.” Neither of them liked to dwell on that key difference between Jedi and clones, but sometimes it was unavoidable.

“It’s the one you miss that counts. I know that much. I want to get this _right_.” For Helli, “that’ll do” had never done. “What am I doing wrong?”

“Technically, nothing. Other than working too hard for too long.” They exchanged wry smiles. “All right, just once more.” He called up the next simulation in the firing range’s computer. “Now, remember, aim for where your target’s going to be, not where it is when you fire. Picture it in your mind as well as keeping your eyes on it. Try to keep your heart rate steady, and if you can, fire at the end of an exhalation. And don’t just pull the trigger, squeeze it. Ready?” She nodded, and he reached for the controls of the simulator, about to start the run.

“Am I interrupting something?” Fives and Helli whirled to face the intruder, a young Iktotchi male in Jedi robes carelessly thrown on over a flight-suit, who was lounging casually against the doorframe. Still keyed up for the combat simulator, Helli began to point the gun she was holding (one of Fives’, set to training mode) at him before recognising him and relaxing.

“No, sir.” Fives hadn’t relaxed. The newcomer was clearly a Jedi, and therefore a commander at the very least, quite possibly a general. While Helli and Anakin Skywalker, Fives’ COs, both encouraged free speech and initiative, this officer was an unknown, and Fives was playing it safe. Unnecessarily. Helli knew.

“Not at all. Koh-to-ya, Vuda. It’s good to see you, as always. This is Fives, my third-in-command. Fives, this is Vuda Chozi, one of my oldest friends, and commander of Cyclone Squadron.”

“Koh-to-ya, Helli. Good to see you, too. Pleased to meet you, Fives. I’ve heard a fair bit about you, and if you’ve put up with this one for this long I presume it’s all true.” His scoundrel grin took the bite out of his words, and his friend matched it. Helli and Vuda had known one another since they were younglings. Like her, he had recently passed his trials; like her, he commanded a small, unusually independent strike team. But unlike Lightning Squadron, Cyclone Squadron specialised. As pilots.

“Did you want anything in particular, or just to tease me?” Pleasant though it always was to see her old friend, if he’d tracked her down in the firing range attached to the 501st Legion’s primary barracks it was most likely for something important, presumably war-related.

“The Council has a new assignment for you and your squad. Master Tiin’s fleet are having trouble getting through the blockade on Mykapo. Brute force isn’t going to get it done. They need a couple of strike teams, and you’re their choice, along with us.”

“As pilots? Without the right training? Are they sure?” The question Helli wanted to ask was “are they out of their minds?” But that wasn’t something one asked about the Jedi Council. Not out loud.

“You’ve done the basic course, right? And your men are fast learners, or so Captain Rex insisted. They’ve given us half a rotation to get your squad up to speed. After that, it’s a case of “ready or not, here we come”.” Helli had, indeed, done some flight-simulator training over the years, and a few practice flights. And she had seen for herself how adaptable her team was. They could do this, she was sure. It was herself she worried about, but she managed not to show it. Vuda would tease her for weeks if she weakened, or made a fool of herself.

“Very well. When do we start?”

“Right away. We’ve found some fighters for you, rigged with mag-pulse cannons – non-lethal, even to droids. I knew you’d want that. And ‘mechs to match. This way.” He led them to his team’s patch of their fighter hangar, where Torrent, Echo, Spark and four other clones were waiting.

Vuda introduced his men to Fives and Helli as Feedback, Brass, Knife and his second-in-command, Diamond. The rest of Lightning Squadron had already met the Cyclones, and Torrent and Diamond knew one another from their cadet days. There was little time for pleasantries, though. As promised, five Delta-7B Aethersprite starfighters and accompanying astromechs had been found for Lightning Squadron, but not prepped for flight. Vuda wanted to teach them the whole process, start to finish, from pre-flight checks to landing procedures. He was a good but brisk teacher, it turned out. Helli was familiar with the original Delta-7, but the 7B was different enough that the mental adjustments took nonzero time. At least that way she wasn’t too far ahead of her men. That could have been awkward. And she still didn’t like heights one bit, but had long since learned to hide the fact.

Over the next four hours, Vuda put his students through their paces, teaching them every manoeuvre in the book, and a fair few that must have been passed from pilot to pilot by word of mouth, or that he or his men had surely invented. Helli’s head was spinning by the time he called a brief halt and they landed back at the hangar for his appraisal and advice.

“Captain Rex was right. You are fast learners, but you’ve got a lot to learn still. Helli, you’re trying to do everything yourself, as usual. Trust your team as much as they trust you. If you don’t let them help, you’re risking their lives for nothing. Torrent, you have the opposite problem. You’re so busy looking out for your mates, you forget to watch where you’re going, let alone do your own job. Fives, initiative is good, but try to talk to the others first. At least let them know what you’re about to do. Echo, again, you’re at the other end of the spectrum. Think about what your CO’s told you to do and why; don’t just blindly obey her orders. Even the best leaders make mistakes. And Spark, don’t focus too much on sticking to the plan. Look at what’s actually happening. No plan survives first contact with the enemy, so you need to be able to improvise, fast. Is that all clear?” It was. “Now, we’ve just got time to run through using the hyperspace rings and some combat drills, but we’d better leave now.”

“No time for tea?” This was from Feedback. Helli was getting a good idea of why he was called that.

“I’m afraid not. The longer we spend here, the worse the situation on Mykapo gets.” Vuda’s flippant exterior had only ever been a veneer over his deep concern for the people he was sworn to protect, and the other Cyclones clearly knew that as well as Helli did. Nobody argued as they climbed back into their fighters and Vuda talked them through the procedure for navigating to and through hyperspace.

Their target was an area of interstellar space just a few minutes’ jump away, a prime location for combat training. Time blurred as Lightning Squadron learned the best strategies for a dizzying array of scenarios, as many as the Cyclones could simulate, playing both offensive and defensive roles. All that held them back was the need not to damage either ships or pilots before their real deployment.

Which came all too soon. Satisfied that his old friend and her men wouldn’t fail or make fools of themselves, Vuda sent across the coordinates of their target and all ten fighters made the jump to hyperspace, the Cyclones as a single unit, Lightning Squadron a little more messily.

The sight that greeted them when they exited the tunnel told them why this was an “all hands on deck” situation. The Separatist blockade was as formidable as any Helli had ever seen. A bewildering assortment of frigates and cruisers barred the way to the planet’s surface, and the gaps between capital ships were patrolled by vulture droids. Facing off against this show of force, Master Tiin’s fleet looked tiny. A handful of cruisers, most already the worse for wear, hovered just out of the Sep ships’ effective range, protecting unarmed freighters that were presumably loaded with supplies for the people on the other side of the blockade. Fighter squadrons filled in the spaces between the cruisers, but not enough to mount a concerted offensive without leaving part of the rest of the Republic fleet defenceless. Many already showed signs of damage. No wonder they had called for reinforcements.

Vuda directed them all to switch their comms to a certain channel, then broadcast on that band. “Skull Squadron, this is Cyclone One. Do you read?”

“About time you got here!” The voice was male, probably human, with an accent that was almost but not quite Mandalorian. “I hope you brought plenty of friends with you.”

“My squad and another. Two Jedi and eight clones should constitute “plenty of friends” in anyone’s book.” Jedi were widely said to be worth at least a hundred battle droids each, and some put the figure at a thousand. Estimates for a clone-droid exchange rate varied widely, but Helli would put it in the hundreds at minimum, especially as far as her team were concerned. Plenty indeed. Not counting their own droids. Helli valued a ‘mech, even the mildly cross-wired C1 unit she had been assigned, at least fivefold higher than some near-mindless flying clanker, and probably much more.

“I don’t believe I’m doing this… OK, we see you now. Meet us in front of the central cruiser. We need to punch a hole through the blockade wide enough for one of those freighters to get through. Once we’re in, we hit the clankers from behind with everything we’ve got. Give them something to think about while the General moves his fleet into range. Clear?”

“Perfectly, Skull One. With you in less than a minute.” Vuda was all professionalism now that he was in the field, and rather more respectful than he would be to anyone else not a Jedi Master. Who _was_ this Skull One?

As though reading her mind (which may well have been the case), Vuda briefly switched back to the bi-squad comm channel to explain. “I should have said earlier. Skull Squadron are taking the lead on this one. Fenn Rau and his team. They’re part of one of the Mandalorian factions, the Protectors, exiled to Concord Dawn.” Mandalorians and Jedi, side by side. Skies above. The universe was full of surprises. “They’ve got short fuses, but they’re some of the best fighters in the galaxy, apart from us.”

“If you’ve quite finished chatting,” Rau broke in on the tri-squad frequency, “Cyclone One, you and your men need to be on the other side of the freighter you’re about to pass. You’re covering its starboard and underside. Your other squad – who are you?”

“Lightning Squadron, sir. I presume we’re guarding the port and top sides?” Helli kept her tone as respectful as she could without sounding subservient.

“You presume right. My unit will lead. Take your time from me. Try not to get yourselves blown up, but above all don’t let any clankers near that freighter. We’ll only get one shot at this, so let’s make it count.” He didn’t ask whether that was clear that time. As it happened, it was. Helli watched on her scanner as the Cyclones lined up along the freighter’s starboard flank, and her men did the same behind her to its port side, a little more slowly and a little less tidily. They made a remarkable team on the ground, but were still finding their feet, as it were, in space.

Fenn Rau must have been satisfied, more or less. He signalled them again once everyone was in some sort of position. “Well, I’ve seen better, but you’ll have to do. Let’s do this.”

 _Here goes nothing_ , Helli thought as she matched Skull Squadron’s speed, keeping station with them and the freighter. For the first few nerve-racking minutes, nothing happened. Then, out of nowhere, her Force-sense alerted her to an approaching pair of vulture droids, moments before her scanner did. They were useful moments. Vuda’s crash course proved its worth as she aimed her mag-pulse cannon at the nearer droid and fired. It spun away, out of control and out of everyone else’s flight path. She turned her attention to the second one, just in time to see Torrent dispatch it as neatly as she had its partner, if not more so.

No time for congratulations. That had just been the first wave. Droid fighters were coming in thick and fast, almost in range. Helli forced herself to pick her targets, trusting her men to handle anything she couldn’t. She gathered all her focus and concentration – then nearly lost it as Rau called her comm. “Lightning Squadron, you’ve got incoming.”

“Incoming just came in.” Helli didn’t have brain-space for courtesy. The second wave, larger than the first, had just come within range of her weapons. It wasn’t just Vuda’s lessons she needed now. She was also recalling Fives’ advice in the simulator room, an apparent lifetime ago. _Aim for where your target’s going to be, not where it is._ A fast-moving droid trying to hit the freighter’s upper decks found itself crippled and weaponless. _Picture it in your mind_. Her scanner was developing too much lag for comfort, but the sapient mind is more than capable of visualising a simple trajectory, even without the aid of the Force. _Try to keep your heart rate steady_. Easier said than done, but she could feel herself calming down, reaching that almost meditative state beyond panic, fear or mere exertion where all that matters is the final goal. _Fire at the end of an exhalation_. There was a rhythm to the droids’ attacks, she was sure. She could hear it in her head, like a deadly piece of music, and synchronise her breath to it, steadying her hand as she squeezed the trigger again and again. Droid after droid tried and failed to reach its target. Any that got past Helli, her men soon mopped up.

Almost before they knew it, they were through the blockade and out of the remaining droids’ operational range. The freighter continued towards the surface and the people awaiting its cargo, but Rau ordered all three fighter squadrons to turn and face the capital ships they had just passed. With any luck, that stunt had focused the Seps’ attention on the fighters and not on the rest of the fleet. But luck, by its very nature, is unreliable. Rau knew that.

“OK. We need to keep this lot busy so that General Tiin can get in range without his ships being torn apart. We’ll take the command cruiser; Cyclone Squadron, you take the frigate to its port side; Lightning Squadron, the one on its starboard side. Hit them with everything you’ve got left. The people down there are depending on us.” He didn’t need to drive it home so hard. Vuda and Helli were both Jedi, compassionate by nature and upbringing, and the clones had been bred for this. But nobody commented as they moved into position. Rau had given them plenty of latitude as regarded actual strategy. Helli ran through her options with adrenaline-fuelled speed, picking one that was simple, elegant and likely to work, as she switched to her squad’s private comm channel.

“Okeyday. Follow me, spread-wings formation, Fives and Echo on my starboard, Torrent and Spark to my port. We need to take their weapons down, and stop them launching any more fighters. If you have a shot at nav or comms, take it. Keep it tight, keep it steady, and watch each other’s backs. Clear?”

“Perfectly.” Torrent.

“Crystal.” Fives.

“Abundantly.” Echo.

“Too clear.” Spark.

“Let’s do this, then. And may the Force be with us.” Helli checked with C1 that her own fighter was still in working order, saw that her men were in position, took a deep breath and began the run.

It was easier this time. Easier to see or sense the enemy; easier to maintain her calm-beyond-calm; easier to trust her squad to do what had to be done. As Helli took out her third gun turret, she saw Fives slip out of formation to hit the frigate’s comm relay, Echo covering him beautifully. Both were back where they should be before she could engage her speech centres. Had they even exchanged a word? She doubted it. Lightning Squadron had been close before, but this was verging on telepathic connection. A five-body gestalt. They had crossed yet another border in their journey together, and it could not have been better timed.

Still flying as one, they swept past the nose of the frigate and repeated the process along the length of the ship beside it. By the time they reached its tail, their scanners informed them that the rest of the fleet had moved in for the kill, an all too appropriate phrase. Helli didn’t want to think about the loss of life on the crippled vessels, but it does no good in the long run to ignore the price of war.

General Tiin signalled them as they prepared for another assault. “Lightning Squadron, you’ve done enough up here. Fall back and regroup with Skull and Cyclone Squadrons. If the Separatists send fighters or bombers towards the surface, turn them back or scrap them.”

“Copy that, sir.” Helli led her team to where Vuda, Rau and their squads were waiting, slotting neatly into the defensive formation already in place. It turned out not to be necessary. All three units had done a good enough job that the Seps were fully occupied just trying to hold back the Republic fleet. Trying and failing. One by one, the ships burned or exploded, unable even to call for reinforcements. The freighters and their precious cargo had a clear run down to the surface, and the Republic fighters were stood down. Skull Squadron departed for either Concord Dawn or their next assignment with barely a word of farewell as Cyclone and Lightning Squadrons cruised upwards towards their own entry point for hyperspace, now chatting happily on their private frequency.

“Nice work, guys,” Vuda commented in the offhand way Helli knew wasn’t as casual as it sounded. “You’ve learned well. Given a bit more time, you could make pretty good pilots.”

“Thank you, master,” Helli shot back in the dry tone she reserved for him alone, making him chuckle. “It was a team effort in more ways than one.”

“That it was. Race you back to Coruscant? Squad against squad, losing CO buys the next round at 79’s.”

“Oh, you’re on!” Vuda had always brought out Helli’s competitive side. She said as much to her men over their team channel, eliciting some amusement.

“Well, let’s not disappoint him,” Fives said. “Ready when you are, Hel.”

As they entered the tunnel, Helli reflected on the day’s events, and on the significance of her new nickname. She knew that clones either chose their names themselves or had them chosen by friends. Fives had picked his own, after his birth-number, but Echo’s had been given to him because of his old habit of repeating orders. He had broken that habit, but the name remained. If “Hel” stuck, did that mean they saw her as one of them, and if so, was that a good or a bad thing? She knew what some of her superiors would think, and found she didn’t really care. Being accepted by her brothers – yes, they _were_ her brothers now – was more important. This first real flight together had cemented their friendship, hopefully for good in every sense.

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly have no idea whether or not Mykapo was actually involved in the Clone Wars, but there's no evidence that it wasn't, so I took the liberty of filling the gap. Not good logic, but this _is_ fiction.


End file.
